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That got me a burst of laughter and an eye roll. Because Louis-Cesare seemed to like it when I was silly. Especially when I was naked and silly.
I slid along underneath him, and watched those gorgeous eyes catch fire. I’d never known blue could burn before I met him, I thought, right before warm lips caught mine. And, yes, they were very nice lips. And a very nice tongue. And very nice teeth, nipping at me gently.
I wrapped my legs around him, because that was more like it.
And suddenly found myself vertical, with hard hands under my butt and strong legs carting me off somewhere, which turned out to be the bathroom.
I can work with this, I decided, as my backside came to rest on the countertop.
He leaned over to start the shower, and I enjoyed a view of the world’s greatest ass for a moment. And then the world’s greatest chest, when he stood back up. Which was nice to look at but even nicer to rest my head against, the skin-to-skin contact just so . . . damned . . . good. Warm like the bed had been, and the shower would be—in half an age, because the ancient water heater took its time. Not that I minded, I thought drowsily, my hands sliding over intriguing dips and valleys . . .
And then spazzing out, when I was suddenly drenched by a warm waterfall.
“W-what?” I choked, staring around wildly—
At the inside of my bath.
It looked the way it always did: cracked blue and white tile on the walls, fat old porcelain fixtures on the claw-foot tub, eyelet shower curtain billowing out because my roommate had decorated the place and she’s a girlie girl.
And because of the steam.
The shower was hot.
“How . . . how did you do that?” I asked Louis-Cesare, who had turned me around to soap up my back.
“Do what?” he murmured, as I braced my hands on the tile and wondered, What the hell?
“The water.” I struggled to think past the rhythmic soothing of those callused hands. “It’s hot.”
“Isn’t it supposed to be?”
“Yes, but not now. It takes forever—”
“Almost fifteen minutes,” he agreed. “You need a new—what do they call it? The device that heats the water.”
“A water heater, and no, I don’t. I need to know what’s going on.” I twisted around, because all the stroking was making my brain fuzzy, and I needed to be sharp right now.
Louis-Cesare’s forehead wrinkled slightly. “I am helping you to bathe. The doctor said it would relieve some of your stiffness—”
“Not about that! About the time.”
“What time?” The wrinkle was starting to deepen.
“You just said we’ve been in here fifteen minutes—”
He nodded. “About that, why?”
“Because I don’t remember them. I don’t remember any of them!”
I stared around, suddenly feeling trapped. It felt like the curtains were closing in. Only it wasn’t the curtains, it was me, and how do you feel claustrophobic in your own skin?
I was finding out.
“Dorina—”
&nb
sp; “Don’t call me that!”
